


Penance

by PercySnail



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F, i don't know what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercySnail/pseuds/PercySnail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt from hystericalwomannovelist on tumblr; and here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hystericalwomannovelist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalwomannovelist/gifts).



Jocelyn thinks to herself - tonight - atop this spot on the cliff (that spot, the one they’ve both come to think of theirs) - that the part she regrets the most is how many days and nights she’d missed of these simple pleasures. She’d never been able to just watch her - the way she smiles, never shyly; the corners of her mouth curling up in a grin that seems to occupy so much space. She’d never allowed her gaze to linger at the sight of the wind in her hair, blowing the soft strands across her brow; the setting sun casting an even more golden hue to them. She’d never been able to sit and let her mind become occupied simply by the way Maggie pushes those strands out of the way absent-mindedly, as she continues to tell a tale of the day that’s been had in town.

She’s waited so long for this chance; this opportunity. The chance to gaze at her, unabashedly. Without reservation, or guilt. She’s done her penance, confessed everything to the person who needed to hear it, and now they’ve arrived here. Here, where she can look at this love of hers; admire her, soak in as much as she can. Here, where she can let her fingers slip through Maggie’s, thumb stroking small patterns into her skin. Here, where she’s started to let go of the guilt; let go of the regret - to accept what she cannot change, accept that mistakes have only led them to where they are now. Jocelyn tries, of course, in true Jocelyn Knight fashion, to bear the burden of this broken course they’ve taken to arrive here. Tries to retreat back into herself; convince herself that she isn’t really deserving of all of this after all. 

And Maggie - Maggie never tries to convince her otherwise - she knows her better than that, better than anyone. Instead, she does what Maggie does best - draws her out of the despair; out of the funk of misery and guilt she has thrown herself into it. Drags her out of the house (quite literally, tonight) she’s built around herself, and back into the light, with her by her side. 

For so long, they have avoided this intimacy. For years, it had been too painful for eyes to meet, for a hand to reach out in comfort. Gazes had been averted, hands had fluttered down, returning to their own sides - smoothing down imaginary wrinkles in pants and skirts. Hands that had been destined to console, to help lighten the load of the other had instead, for years, been empty. Tonight though, they are allowed. A confession, a pardon, an acceptance that the past is the past, and they can only move forward - together.

Maggie stirs next to her, tugging at her hand softly as she checks her watch. “We should probably head back then?” A teasing chuckle escapes as she glances at Jocelyn. “I know some of us like to be in bed by 8:00 pm; keeping old lady hours.” 

“Mmmmm,” she mutters in return. “I suppose you’re right.” Jocelyn stands, brushing bits of sand grass off her pants. “Some of us have to keep those old lady hours because we have real jobs to do.” Her tone is serious, but her eyes suggest the playfulness behind her words. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of sitting around and interviewing people for a living!” 

Maggie huffs, picking up the small canvas bag that held the remnants of their cocktails. “Yes, you’re right. I have it so easy compared to the life and times of one Ms. Jocelyn Knight.” The grin on her face doesn’t escape Jocelyn. 

They fall in sync with their steps as they head back to the small path; the one worn down by the footprints of the people of this town. It seems quite natural for Jocelyn to reach down, lightly touching the tips of Maggie’s fingers against her own as she loops an arm behind Maggie’s; their hands dangling softly together by their sides as they walk.

So natural, in fact, that when Paul Coates rounds the corner, headed in their direction, that Jocelyn finds herself quite surprised at Maggie’s hesitance; at her arm tightening a bit as she begins to pull away, put some distance between the two of them. And Jocelyn realizes; then; in this moment; that despite the assurances, and the steps they’ve taken forward; Maggie still thinks that Jocelyn won’t want anyone to know - that Jocelyn is still worried; still frightened of the implications of them. A fluttering in her chest (and oh, she can actually feel it, feel a piece of her break a bit at this knowledge) and instinctively she curls her fingers around Maggie’s; thumb pressing into the palm of her hand just lightly as she tugs at her; gently pulling her back in; closer to her - back into an us. An us that she’s not afraid of. 

Maggie’s eyes flash at her, and Jocelyn simply smiles, and breaks the gaze between them. 

“Good evening, Paul.” Her voice is unwavering, and the man simply nods. “Ms. Radcliffe. Ms. Knight." He continues on, no backward glances or surprise on his face at the sight that’s passed him by. She hears a ragged breath come from beside her, and she can just catch sight of Maggie’s shoulders relaxing; and then they continue. Hands entwined, shoulder to shoulder, as they head home.


End file.
